


Where She Breaks

by Potofpetunias



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, F/M, put it took a dark turn, this started off headed for snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potofpetunias/pseuds/Potofpetunias
Summary: York sleeps. Carolina does not.





	Where She Breaks

He couldn't be sure what woke him. With Delta pulled, he didn't have the hum at the back of his head, all numbers and probabilities, to tell him which stimulus brought him back to the land of the living. He could guess though.  
The training room floor was dim, illuminating Carolina's silhouette in his peripheral. Not actually trying to sneak up on him, then. Otherwise, she would have used his blind spot.  
She stepped fully into his sight and sighed, arms crossing in frustration.  
"Shouldn't you be sleeping in your bunk, York?" Her tone was flat, resigned, as though she has no interest in the response she knew was coming.  
She looks so tired. Her helmet was still firmly in place, but he could see it in the slump of her shoulders, the way she shifted her weight. He still knows her, even if they haven't been close for a while.  
Since the leaderboard.  
Since Tex.  
"Yeah," he grunted, leaning into a stretch, "guess we should all be getting to bed."  
Carolina huffed and jerked her head. "You sound like North."  
"What can I say? You hang around people enough, you pick things up."  
"Wish that worked with training." Her voice was lightening, the grumble more amused than irked. This was good.  
"You wound me, 'Lina. Look, if you're not going to sleep, and least come get something in the mess with me. Cup of coffee? Huh?"  
Carolina stiffened as though she'd been electrocuted.  
"I...no, York. Not tonight." she tuned on her heel and left, not quite running away, but almost.  
York gawped briefly at the empty space, half expecting a cartoonish outline of smoke to collapse in her wake and dropped his face miserably into his hands.  
"Well," he muttered to the empty room, "that could've gone better."

  
Carolina stomped through the halls to the showers as though the floor had personally offended her. She wasn't getting better fast enough, it wasn't enough.  
They lost Connie.  
Texas killed her.  
And Carolina couldn't do anything about it.  
And York. He couldn't understand, hadn't seen it, didn't know, she couldn't trust him or anyone but he wouldn't just leave her alone.  
She roared in frustration as she pitched her helmet against the wall. Of course, the walls in here had been specifically reinforced after Maine's little...rampage a few years back. Still, if she squinted, she could see a scuff.  
Not remotely satisfying.  
Few things were anymore.  
Carolina stripped her remaining armor into a haphazard pile and retreated into the showers. She could care less about rinsing the sweat from her hair, but some small part of her hoped that it could be soothing. Allow her to sleep an hour or so tonight.

And it is here, in the steam and isolation of the showers, that Agent Carolina begins to break.  
Connie.  
York.  
Maine.  
All of them trusted her. All of them followed her. And what did it get them.  
Dead.  
Blinded.  
Mutilated.  
Except Connie never really trusted her, did she? Not as much as she trusted Tex. Tex who killed her.  
The crack of bending metal brought her back to reality before the stinging in her knuckles. The blood dribbled down, swirling down the drain like an old horror movie. For some reason, that was what did it. She sank to her knees and howled, a broken animal thing that carried the weight of every decision, every failure she had endured in pursuit of...something she couldn't name. Didn't want to name, for fear of making it real.  
If anyone heard, anyone suspected, she never saw any sign.  
Project Freelancer was host to many screams of pain in those days.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been staring at me for a week. I'm not happy with it, but I don't know what else it needs. So, here we go.


End file.
